Resurrection and Retribution
by Selqueyth
Summary: Vladislaus Dragulia was not the only mortal to have fallen from the graces of Heaven. Gabriel Van Helsing and he had that much in common. But what is that history that they share? And who says that only they share it?
1. Default Chapter

Resurrection and Retribution  
  
Disclaimer Note: I do not own any of the Van Helsing characters (sadly) that appear throughout this tale. They are owned by Universal Studios, and were created by the novelist Kevin Ryan.  
  
Chapter 1: The Past Rears the Disturbing  
  
"Dammit!" cried out a frustrated friar as his chisel slipped and cut his finger.  
  
"Sir," cried his young assistant. "The cardinal would not be pleased with you using that sort of language in front of me." The young boy was new to the Order, a rather brilliant new addition to Carl's relief, but perhaps a little too innocent and naïve at times.  
  
"Well, Paul, I expect you to do what most young students do sometimes." The boy's eyebrows rose quizzically. "And that is?"  
  
"Ignore the tutor at select moments." Carl grinned. "Just the ones I select."  
  
The both of them were slowly chipping away an almost perfect square into the tiled floor of an ancient Roman crypt beneath a younger church crypt, just outside of Rome. Normally, this would be considered sacrilege, but he had insisted to the cardinal that leakage of petroleum was best diverted from its source. For several months, the stench of petroleum had raised both suspicion and caution in the Church Clergy, sending him in search of the source. They could not allow the danger. Rome had already burned down one too many times in their opinions.  
  
"How much farther do you think we have to go?" questioned Paul.  
  
Carl sniffed. "Not too much, I hope." He had positioned the few candles above him, far enough to that if they fell, they would not fall in the hole, but close enough to give light. "Could you give me the smallest leather pouch of tools?"  
  
While the boy made his way to the other side of the crypt room, Carl poked his head through the hole that they had managed to chip away at and sneezed. Yeah, most definitely they were getting nearer. The stench was horrible. He pulled his head out of the hole in response to the calling voice of his assistant and sighed with annoyance.  
  
"Carl, which one of these hammers do....." But before Paul could finish his sentence, the ground below his feet had given away.  
  
Dammit! I told him to tread softly in here. He rushed over edge of the collapsed area, careful with his own steps. He called out into the darkness below. "Paul! Paul! Are you alright? Paul?"  
  
After what seemed an eternity count of heartbeats, he heard Paul's faint voice. "I'm fine. I think." He heard the boy cough and then groan. "No wait. I think I hurt my arm." Carl cursed again and then went over to the rope that was dangling overhead. He tugged on it. At the other end of that rope was a bell for alerting the few other Brothers that were assisting him up above. "I'm going down to fetch you, Paul." No sense in risking any more lives other than my own. He tugged several more times on the rope and heard the affirmative call of Brother Thomas above. "The rope is tied down, Carl!" He took the extra end of that rope and dropped it down the hole. With the Brothers on the other end, the rope was going nowhere, or so he prayed.  
  
Carl carefully climbed down, a small lantern tied securely to his belt. Paul was only remotely hurt with a twisted arm, nothing fatal, to Carl's relief. He had the Brothers cautiously hoist Paul up with the rope tied around the boy's waist. With that task taken care of, he was finally allowed to inspect his surroundings.  
  
It was a rather large catacomb, encrusted with tell-tale layers of mold, cobwebs, and dust. In between a least a dozen old Roman braziers were thirteen beautiful sarcophaguses with engraved floral work upon them. He brought the lantern closer to examine each one. Some of the inscriptions were still intact, while most had crumbled away. Names of long-dead military figures of the same Roman legion revealed themselves over the next few hours.  
  
When Carl had his fill, he turned to call out to Brother Thomas above. But something in the far right-hand crumbling corner caught his eye, something not so typical of pagan Roman crypts. The word INRI above a man upon a cross. A soldier with a spear in his hand was below the man, weeping upon the ground. If it was indeed a scene from the New Testament, then it was seriously an interesting find. The scene trailed along the section of wall that one of the soldier's sarcophaguses was. Needless to say, this was perhaps his story. Most of the story was missing, all color and engraving having faded and worn away due to moisture. Carl almost wet his undergarments when he took in one of the last intact scenes. A man, the soldier, was caught in between the upraised arms of what appeared to be a God and a Demon, and most of the inscriptions around the scene seemed typical enough to the period, referring to the natural fear of a God, punishment, the usual sort one would find in a Biblical story. But it was the wording that spoke of the Left Hand of God that scared him. He had to peer inside the sarcophagus. It was the only way to be sure. No dust, no bones. There was only the remains of a much encrusted spearhead. Helsing is not going to love this...  
  
He traced his hands farther along the wall to the other side of catacomb, looking for more that would perhaps add to the tale. As before, only the more typical scenes of pagan Roman life and the six false painted doors that gave the room more of a daily-life appearance of a house.  
  
Carl scratched his chin and pondered upon this new information, enjoying the fresh breeze of air coming down to him from above. Wait...breeze? That meant that the air had to be flowing somewhere, because it sure wasn't returning from where it came. Cool air had to travel into warmer air. He turned around and ran his hands along every square inch of that catacomb, floor and all. One of his fingers popped into a hole in one of the painted false doors. He managed to knock away more of the stone, enlargening the hole. He stuck his lantern through. There was another room? 


	2. Chapter Two: Back so Soon?

Chapter Two: Back...So soon?  
  
Vladislaus Dragulia could not help but feel pleasure at seeing the mortal world again. He had suffered indescribable torment under the relentless whims of the Devil for what seemed an eternity. Once again among mortals, he discovered that it had only been ten years. My...how time reference is lost to those who aren't living. But things of the past were never forgotten. He remembered Gabriel Van Helsing with such hatred that only the Devil could admire. This second opportunity would not be as fruitless as the other. Gabriel would pay more dearly than with just his life. He had to make certain that his soul would suffer greater peril and loss than even his had over four centuries ago.  
  
To his shock and appeasement, the Valerious family no longer existed. The young gypsy princess Anna must have been destroyed during their last attempt eliminate him. He felt no pain at her loss, but then again, he felt very little. With the Valerious clan out of the way, it would make things that much easier. Now, he could perhaps return to his old original home, considering it was vacated.  
  
He grinned wickedly to himself as he tugged his cloak tighter about his body. For now, the pleasures of the city awaited him...  
  
Back at the crypt...  
  
Over the next few days, Carl, Brother Thomas, and Brother James had managed to break down most of the false door that had hidden the other room.  
  
Inside, they had discovered more wall murals, all in gorgeous tiles. It was all elaborately done, including the one sarcophagus that was laid at the far end of the chamber. Several angelic statues had their wings and arms raised elegantly over the lid, and Latin inscriptions littered the base of the sarcophagus. This chamber seemed to have been built perhaps a century after the previous one. Christianity was still then a newborn child, but there was the possibility of a secret Christian sect having built it. Such would explain all the references to God and Christ upon the walls. However, it was the inscriptions naming the entombed that were the most enthralling to Carl. They referred to the corpse, if there was one, as Praepondero or "tipper of scales," something along those lines. He, for one, wanted to have a look inside the sarcophagus.  
  
Brother Thomas let out what sounded like a rather wimpy squeak when Carl began to heave at the lid. "This is most unwise, Brother Carl. This is defilement!"  
  
Carl grunted. "I'm not going to disturb anything, my friend. I'm going to merely look."  
  
Brother James entered from the other room. "Carl, the cardinal...." He stopped to realize what Carl was about to do. "I don't think the cardinal..."  
  
Carl cut him short. "I know. I know. I'm just LOOKING."  
  
The lid was heavier than it appeared, being marble and all. It took almost all the energy he had left for the day to succeed in sliding it halfway off.  
  
Brother Thomas dropped the string of Rosary beads that he had been praying with for the forgiveness of Carl's sin, and Brother James exited the room just as quickly as he had entered it. And Carl...well, if he had wet a river in his undergarments earlier about the reference to the Left Hand of God, then there was an ocean in his undergarments now. For before him laid the freshest most beautiful corpse he had ever seen... 


	3. Chapter 3: God Did What?

Chapter Three: God Did What?  
  
"Oh My God!" whispered Carl.  
  
"God has nothing to do with this," prompted Brother Thomas behind him.  
  
Lain inside the sarcophagus was not a corpse at all. It was too...fresh. It was the body of young women, gorgeous to the point of ethereal. And that word ethereal is what frightened him. He pulled out a small silver cross necklace from underneath his robes and threw it upon the body. Nothing happened. Carl peered closer. In fact, the flesh looked alive, for it had the pink undertones of flowing blood, live blood. The more he stared at her, the more entranced he became. The clothes that she had once worn had long since rotted away. Pale white hair cascaded over her lithe form and blanketed all around her, for it was longer than she. Her skin was very pale from lack of sunlight. The most curious of her features though, were her ears. They were pointed. She wasn't even human! Well, at least he didn't think so.  
  
Brother Thomas whispered behind him. "Carl, I do hope you remember your Latin lessons. The words we have translated as 'heavenly' or 'diving being,' the way it was used could have also meant 'otherworldly.'"  
  
Carl swallowed hard. "That, I am well aware of." He quickly jabbed a finger into her flesh and pulled back. "She's warm, Brother."  
  
Brother Thomas backed farther away. "And she's breathing."  
  
Carl let out a startled cry. "And what are we to do?"  
  
"Run. What else?" Brother Thomas hurried from the room, leaving a much panicked Carl. He himself was about to turn tail when the woman jolt straight up, a sharp intake of breath could be heard as she did so. A look of unspeakable pain had formed on her lovely face. Carl froze in place as her eyes settled on him.  
  
"Sancturaium." One word rolled beautifully out of her mouth as she observed the cross that dangled from the belt of his robe.  
  
"Wh...wh..what?" It was all he could manage to squeak out in response.  
  
Her face calmed, and she smiled. "Sanctuarium."  
  
And with that smile, Carl did the one thing that Helsing would have killed him for. He feinted.  
  
It was perhaps an hour later that he came around to his senses. The woman had long since vacated her sarcophagus to help him. He found his head laying in the lap of....a naked woman! He bolted upright and murmured, "Good Father in Heaven, keep this mind from wicked thoughts."  
  
The woman merely gave him a puzzled look, for she did not understand his tongue, apparently. She took note of the slight flush to his face and realized his situation. She quickly draped her luxurious hair about her body as if it were a Roman robe.  
  
He diverted his thoughts back to the intensive Latin courses that had ravaged his childhood. It was quite a dead language, and well, he had never heard it spoken natively before. She had a pronunciation of the words that was quite different from his tutors.' He tried his best to communicate with her.  
  
"I am pleased to make you acquaintance. I am called Carl, Brother Carl."  
  
Her warm smile melted all his initial fear of her away. "I am named Praepondero by your people."  
  
His people? "Uh...pardon me, my lady," adding more honorific terms to his language use, "Are you inquiring that you have a people of your own."  
  
She fidgeted under his curious stare. "I most certainly am."  
  
"Can I ask you who or what your people are?"  
  
She tilted her head in deep thought at this. She was trying to find the proper way to explain all of this. "The One Creator has created more than just man and his world full of life. He has created other races of other worlds. Worlds not in the same...time reference as yours. My people are best called Fey."  
  
Carl's head began to swim at the thought of what scandal her words...her mere existence would bring to the Church! No where in the Good Book did it mention other creations. "The Word of God does not speak of this."  
  
Puzzlement creased her brows. "Word of God?" Then realization dawned on her. "Oh! You mean written texts from God? The Torah, perhaps? Or the letters and epistles of Good Brother Paul?"  
  
Carl just about jumped up and did a dance at the joy of new knowledge that she could bestow upon them. "You speak as if you knew him, my lady."  
  
She cocked her head. "I was very lucky to have resided a sort while in Corinth when he was telling of the Christ. He was a very blessed man."  
  
"Aye, that he was." He was elated. Someone in flesh and blood who could recall the very men of the New Testament! "My lady, why would not the Lord let us know of his other creations? Why are they not in the Word?"  
  
She grinned. "Why does man need to know of everything God has done? Does man need the name of every star in the sky that He has made in order to live? No. If Man knew of my people, of my home, Man would come to conquer and destroy it. This you know."  
  
Carl let all of what she had said soak in slowly. "Then...why are you here in this world, my lady?"  
  
Her fingers began to fiddle with the ends of her hair. "I was not the only one, at one time. A messenger of God had come to us, telling us that a number of us were to come to your world to witness the change of all things." She sighed. "What we witnessed was not all pleasant. Some my elders had been able to witness Christ give his very doctrine. And some, such as me, witnessed His death." She shuddered, and then the most alive expression of peace seemed to glow from her. "I also know that He had ascended, for I had seen that too." A look of sorrow swept over her features. "The time for us to return home came, but I could not leave. In prayer, I had been told that I was to remain, my purpose in this place unmet."  
  
Carl didn't know what else to say. He managed to choke out, "Purpose?"  
  
A quick anger passed through her being. "I cannot answer that, even for myself. I was named Praepondero. That means that I am to do something, that which I do not know." He looked down at the cross hanging from his belt and whispered, "Merely your existence is doing something to this world, my lady."  
  
She smiled at this comment. "Come, Brother Carl. I slept long. You must tell me of your present world."  
  
Saints in Heaven! When the Pope gets word of this... 


	4. Chapter 4: Some Things Should Take Time

Selqueyth-Thank you so very much for the lovely reviews so far. I only hope that my writings continue to please readers. Remember, my ideas behind the history of Van Helsing are nothing more than ideas. I hope that one day, Kevin Ryan reveals his Helsing's history to us.  
  
Chapter Four: Some Things Should Take Time  
  
Dracula most certainly had wasted no time in finding the old Valerious manor. To his delight, an old neighboring Lord from the next town over had purchased the place, leaving it furbished with all its original items. The old man had not been a fool either. He had left the care of the manor in the hands of priest, knowing what sort of doorway was being kept in the place.  
  
He bought the Valerious manor from the man and dismissed the priest. He had to keep a more refined and hidden profile now that he had returned. No sense in giving Van Helsing good reasons to come back to Transylvania just yet. No. He had quite a bit of planning to do. His vengeance had to come into play perfectly. This would perhaps take a few years, maybe more, but Gabriel and he had all the time in the world, no? Perhaps he would even find the time and desire to take on some new brides. The remembrance of his previous efforts to have live children disheartened him. He had no idea as to what happened to the Frankenstein monster. He would invest some resources into finding the details of that matter, no doubt. Until he knew for sure, he had to make do with what little momentary pleasures this existence had to offer.  
  
Praepondero had become quite the favorite assistant within the safe confinements of the Order. Undoubtedly due to her unworldly charm, quick intellect, and ...beauty. Fey beauty. Carl had to add that. Most of the workers around here were male. Well, at least she isn't a siren, or at least he hoped not. For if she was, they would surely be in the worst of trouble.  
  
She had been quick to learn and read up on some of the history and science of the day, pleasing Carl nonetheless when she efficiently was able to assist him in some of his new inventions. In fact, it was perhaps to best to have her around in the lab, for she noticed almost all of the clumsy mistakes of everyone and corrected them. They would sometimes be the most simple of things, but it proved that she had an eye for detail.  
  
"How much sulfuric acid is needed for the next mixture?" Praepondero waved a glass beaker in his general direction. Her Italian was much improved with her exposure to it. "Thirty of fifty milliliters?"  
  
Carl raised one of the lenses on his strange headgear to take a quick glance as to what she was referring to. "How about a little less this time? Say twenty-five?"  
  
"Very well."  
  
He continued to slowly add different ingredients to the small cauldron bubbling over a meeker. "You seem to do very well in these sorts of sciences, Praepondero. Almost as if you have done it before."  
  
"I have."  
  
Carl almost spelt a vile of red ichors that he was pouring into the cauldron. "You have?"  
  
"Well, it not perhaps the same as Chemistry." She pondered upon a thought. "I think I read one of the books referring as what I had done before as alchemy."  
  
He went back to his work with a sigh of relief. "That is practically what Chemistry comes from, my dear. There came a point when we realized that there was no magic, and so it became simply alchemy." He simplified the concept as much as he could.  
  
She handed him the beaker of sulfuric acid. "For my people, there is alchemy. I am not human, remember?"  
  
He scoffed. "Are you telling me that you believe in ...well... magic?"  
  
"Your idea of magic and mine are different. It is not called magic. Nor does all of it come from Dark Influences, as your Church claims. We called it....Yrya...or The Flow of things. The Creator gave it to us as a means of countering the strengths of the dark forces in our world. Its manipulation is not given lightly to my people. It comes through a blessing. If ever abused, punishment is harsh."  
  
She had been with the Order for almost a year now, and still the things she told him about were new and fantastical. "Alchemy? You mean you can cook up these contents and add...a ...kick to them?"  
  
She frowned at his odd use of language. "I cannot add a kick to them. I could make them more efficient or potent. The ability to do is limited on your world though. Yrya was made for our world, our use. I can only perform the simplest of cantrips, and even those drain me. My manipulation of Yrya is dependent upon how strong the tie between my world and I are." She shrugged as she handed him the next vial. "As you know, that tie is no longer as it once was."  
  
"Uh, yeah. Sure." He was still halfway confused about all the things she had told him. It would take him more time to sort these new ideas out. "Ah, by the way. One of my...friends and customers is coming by for some new goodies." He jerked his head in the direction of some of his new inventions. "We should get this new potion finished and tested by the time he arrives."  
  
"Understood." She continued her work. "Does this friend have a name?"  
  
A deep voice sounded behind her. "Helsing. Gabriel Van Helsing."  
  
Carl and her spun around to meet the face of this voice. Before them stood a tall man with long dark hair whose face had a handsome countenance underneath unshaven stubble and careworn features. He wore a large dark cloak and wide brimmed hat. He carried the airs of a traveler use to wear and tear.  
  
"You're early! I thought I told you that I wouldn't be finished until later this evening?"  
  
"Carl, you're never finished." The man smiled.  
  
Carl grinned back. "True. True."  
  
"So, Carl, going to introduce me to your new assistant?"  
  
Carl quietly thanked God for her new attire. She wore her beautiful locks of hair in intricate braids woven around her head, hiding those all too suspicious ears of hers. The cardinal had given her the simple robes of a convent to wear, hiding most of pale skin. Her facial expression had turned from a look of curiosity to a dawning of recognition and horror. She knew him?  
  
"Helsing this is...Praepondero." He inclined his head to her and then turned back to his work.  
  
Helsing nodded politely to her. "If you don't mind my asking, what sort of name is that?"  
  
She laughed and Carl quickly turned around to grab her by the arm. He steered her away to the other side of the large work table and handed different instruments to her. "If you would be so kind to finish this for me while I entertain our guest?"  
  
She nodded her lovely head and set to work immediately.  
  
Carl went over to Helsing and took the leather equipment bag from him. "Time to see your new toys, no?"  
  
The taller man gave him a suspicious look. "You're keeping something from me, aren't you?"  
  
Carl smiled nervously. "Of course not." Saints! He was keeping far too much from him, and he intended to keep that way for awhile.  
  
"Fine, Carl. Fine. Show me the weapons." 


	5. Chapter 5: Silence Can Be Golden

Chapter Five: Silence Can Be Golden  
  
Carl finished giving Helsing his new contraptions (A dagger that was more like a needle than anything. It was very useful for paralyzing enemies, or for taking quick samples of them for the lab. Some new potions, climbing devices, and a modified pistol that had gas as propulsion force, for not to destroy the bullets of liquid silver nitrate it was designed to carry.) Helsing was rather pleased with the new pistol; so, the man returned to his chambers to rest satisfied.  
  
Carl, on the other hand, had to have a conversation with Praepondero before Helsing could get the chance to question her next time. To his surprise, Carl found her in the private courtyard, practicing some sort of fighting art with an Asian man who was known for his talent working with gunpowder. When did she start learning this stuff?  
  
She smiled warmly as Carl came striding up to her. Her opponent took advantage of this distraction and managed to pin one of her arms. She in turn quickly maneuvered her position for to handle his weight and flipped him over her. If he had been much larger than her, she probably would not have managed the last move. He quickly landed back upon his feet and started to corner her offensively. Carl's jaw dropped. She began to bluff all sorts of different counters, but did the one thing least expected by either of the men. She allowed one of the blows, but used its force to spin her around faster to quicken her own returned blow. The man's head jerked back from the force, his nose bloodied. They both stopped as Carl came between them.  
  
"When did you start this sort of stuff?" He eyed her as she wiped the sweat off her brow with her sleeve.  
  
The Asian man, called Tseng Ti, bowed to the both of them. "She is a most quick-learned student. Given a few more years and another teacher, she could become even better than I at these arts."  
  
"I'm sure," mumbled Carl. "Can I speak with you privately for a moment?" He looked down at her in frustration.  
  
"Of course." She bowed in return to Tseng Ti before he left. "What is the problem, Brother Carl?"  
  
"I wanted to speak to you about Helsing. But now that I've wind of what else you have been doing lately..."  
  
She undid a few top buttons of her blouse enough to pull it back to inspect her shoulder. It was beginning to bruise. "It is wrong for me to learn these things?"  
  
Carl swallowed hard as he took in the sight of her exposed shoulder. "Not really. We just normally don't have anyone train like this unless the cardinal has designs for them otherwise. Normally such people aren't women either."  
  
She noted his discomfort and buttoned up the blouse the rest of the way. "Sorry." She rubbed her shoulder. "Women are so confined in this world of yours?"  
  
Carl stammered as he explained. "It's not that...well...not that women aren't...appreciated or...useless. Most women of this age just don't have what it takes to do the same sort of jobs." Then he remembered Anna Valerious. She had been a very independent and capable female.  
  
"Well, I do." She gave him a look of disappointment. "I work well in the lab, do I not?" "You do. You've shown us how capable you are."  
  
She started redoing the knot of braids on top her head that had become disheveled. "And now you have seen how capable I can be at more physical tasks." She placed her hands on her hips. "The village where I raised was home to an elite academy dedicated to the arts of fighting and stealth. Most of those trained were women. They were the force of reconnaissance that was sent into the dark races' fortresses."  
  
Carl was dumbfounded. Then he grinned, teasingly. "So, you're dangerous?"  
  
"Depends, are you a servant of the Devil or not?" Her laugh warmed him. "So what is this about Van Helsing that you wish to speak to me about?"  
  
"Oh yeah, that. From the look you had on your face earlier, I would say that you knew him. Did you?"  
  
Her body took on a saddened composure. "He was one of the soldiers that wounded the Christ. His weapon was the spear."  
  
Carl nodded. He was expecting her to have noticed that. After all, she had said that she had witnessed the Crucification. "Please do me a favor. Actually, do him a favor. Do not mention this to him."  
  
She gave him a look of shock. "He does not know what he did? He has forgotten?" Carl sighed. "He has forgotten his past. Perhaps it was a gift from God, perhaps not. Anyways, it will not do him good to know the truth now. Do you understand?"  
  
She nodded. "I will not tell him."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Her black eyes twinkled mischievously. "By the way, whoever said that the cardinal did not want me to be trained like this?" She quickly turned on her heel and strode away from the courtyard.  
  
Carl called after her. "WHAT?!"  
  
Gabriel could not sleep well at all that night. The smell of hot metal and blood and the battle cries of long dead men rang through his head. He never could sort every dream he had. He couldn't tell what was fiction or fact at times. The Battle of Masada was just one memory that he could name. He had fought alongside the Jewish people against the Romans, but he could not remember his reasons why. It was nights as these that he wished God would finally decide to either have his mind wiped completely or to return all his memories at once.  
  
He turned his gaze upon the skies above him, basking in their mystery instead of his own. He sighed heavily and leaned against the tower rail.  
  
"Heavenly, aren't they?" a soft melodious voice said from above.  
  
Helsing quickly faced the general direction of where the comment had come from, a pistol ready in hand. He never left his room without one.  
  
Seated on the rim of the tower roof above was the young woman called Praepondero. Her hair was undone from it braids and flowed about her like a sail in the wind. Instead of a young convent's robe, she wore the tunic and trousers of a young lad.  
  
She fixed an apologetic stare at him. "I am sorry to have startled you."  
  
He grimaced. "How'd you..."  
  
"Get up here?" She shrugged lightly. "I use to climb a lot of trees when I was home."  
  
Helsing lowered his pistol and stored it away again. "And where was that?"  
  
Her shoulders heaved a sigh. "In a village far from here. The most ...magical place there ever was." She used the word as if it were new to her.  
  
"Home is always a wonderful place. I only wished that I had one." He continued looking out over the land.  
  
"I'm sure you'll rediscover your home someday," she whispered.  
  
Helsing's head quickly jerked up in her direction. "You know then? Carl told you?"  
  
"That you have lost memories? Yes, he told me."  
  
He crossed his arms, and his face took on a more angered look. "I don't want pity."  
  
"I don't pity you. I understand your situation. I also understand that all things reveal themselves in due time." She laid her head into the niche of her crossed arms.  
  
"Anyways, it is perhaps much easier for to forget memories all at once than one at a time? The longer I am away from home, the more I forget of it," she commented.  
  
Gabriel was shocked to hear this from someone he knew so impersonally. "I am sorry."  
  
"No need." She stood up and stretched, balanced precariously on the ledge. "I need to ask you something. If you are willing to listen and consider." She swung herself back down and over the railing.  
  
His eyebrows rose in question. "I will listen."  
  
"The cardinal has decided that much like you, I have unfinished business out in the world."  
  
Helsing grinned. "And I thought I was the only one he gave that excuse to."  
  
"Carl has not told you. But neither did anyone forbid me tell you this. I am Praepondero, meaning that my purpose is not yet served."  
  
"You mean that your name is not a name, but a title?"  
  
She turned her face away from him to look back up at the stars. "Like you, I do not know why or how. But my question is simple. May I accompany you on your missions?"  
  
Compassionate understanding of her situation did not come to him. Praepondero? "What is Praepondero? Tell me, and then I will perhaps I'll consider your question."  
  
"It is Latin for 'tipper of scales,' something on those terms. God would not let me go home for a reason. I must find this reason." She pulled her hair out from behind and draped it over her arm, revealing her ears.  
  
Van Helsing's eyes widened. "Home?"  
  
She grinned. "Is not from around here. So, you must understand that if I am ever to return, it will take the....supernatural to do so. You seem to have a lot of occurrences with the sort. I figure if I hang around you long enough, things will come into play."  
  
He did not know exactly how to take in all of this new information. "And what does the cardinal think of this?"  
  
"He thinks that with you as my trainer, I will be an asset to the Order." She pointed to the general spot on his body where he had concealed his pistol. "I am hoping that you can teach me more on how to handle that sort of weapon. I am good with range weapons."  
  
He sighed and leaned on the railing. "If the cardinal thinks that you should come, I do not see how I can refuse. But I will not allow you to join me this year. Train a little more, and next year at this same time, I will let you come with me." He considered the convenience of backup when trouble arises, but he did not necessarily want to be burdened with another death. Anna's parting still lingered achingly in his heart. "And what about those?" He eyed her ears.  
  
"Easy enough to hide." She began to wrap her hair around her head, concealing the oddities. "No?"  
  
He chuckled at the joke she poked in reference to a turban of hair. "It would be more convenient to cut some of that and wear a hat, considering the different places that you will eventually be traveling."  
  
She shook her head. "Your sun will never burn or darken my skin. So if you plan on any desert traveling, you must warn me. As for the hair, I will have Carl cut it."  
  
Helsing laughed. "Pray he doesn't make an experiment out of it too."  
  
"Aye." 


	6. Chapter 6: A Night of Entertainment

Chapter Six: A Night of Entertainment  
  
The streets of Budapest were filled with such life at night. Carriages and carts wheeled to and from on the cobblestone streets. The buildings towered as magnificently as he remembered. Couples strolled here and there under the lit streetlamps and the ever watchful eyes of the police guards.  
  
For tonight, Dracula had plans to attend a most entertaining act that a troupe of his own vampire fledglings was to perform. It was something that they wanted to call the "Masquerade of Apparent Death." It seemed silly for a lord such as himself to attend such things, but he was bored.  
  
A few hours later, after the show, he joined in the few of the small social groups in the lobby. It was delightful to have simple gossip with mortals once again. They could be such scheming creatures at times, as he recalled from personal experience.  
  
An elderly man with a brushed goatee addressed him. "Lord Vladislaus, will you be joining the other gentlemen in the smoke room for a brandy?"  
  
Dracula smiled pleasantly. "I haven't been in company of such beautiful women for so long, that I am afraid that I must stay behind to chat with the ladies. I do hope that you will forgive me, sir."  
  
The man smiled and walked away to join the other gentlemen. The ladies were left behind in a circle around Dracula, which rather pleased him. They were all very lovely ladies, save for the few elderly women that reminded him of old crows. He bowed politely to one of these women. "Do I have your permission, Lady, to borrow your beautiful young daughter here for a stroll outside?"  
  
The young girl across from him blushed behind a lace fan.  
  
"You may, sir, provided the girl won't catch a cold," replied the elderly woman.  
  
Dracula flashed his most seductively gentleman smile. "I wouldn't dream of allowing the young lady to stay out for long."  
  
Rowena, the daughter of a business man and one of the most gorgeous red- heads he had seen in many years, took the arm that he offered. He led her outside to take a short walk through the garden promenade in front.  
  
He had had his eye upon this beauty ever since he had re-entered the circle of gentlemen, and he had no intention of taking her back to her mother tonight. He had everything prepared perfectly for this evening.  
  
A young man with light slicked back hair entered the well-kept garden promenade with hurried countenance. He took a quick glance at Rowena with him and haughtily approached them. "I would appreciate it, sir, if I could speak quickly with my future fiancée. It is quite important."  
  
Dracula nodded. I'm sure it is. He watched the both of them talk quietly near to the carriage that the boy had come in. Rowena's heartbeat was rampant with worry. The news must be disturbing, no doubt. The young man quickly opened the carriage door and ushered her in it.  
  
Dracula immediately returned to the girl's mother to inform her of the young blonde that had taken her. She did not show any signs of surprise. In fact, she looked as if she knew and expected the boy. Good. He bid the ladies goodbye and quickly left for to follow that carriage... 


	7. Chapter 7: Time to Go

Chapter Seven: Time to Go  
  
Carl had been mortified when Praepondero had asked him to cut her hair. He had refused to cut it no shorter than to her hips, which she had quickly agreed to. It was cut not long after Helsing had left, and right at the beginning of a whole new list of things to train for. For the first few months, she continued her lessons with Tseng Ti, while studying up on the different characters that were suppose to be Helsing's type of prey. A few weeks after that, she was lucky enough to receive training almost immediately on different types of firearms with a man who claimed to be from Zulu, Africa. A cleric who was apart of the Vatican clergy and the Order took it upon himself to educate her more about the modern world and medicine; the latter was his specialty. Needless to say, when Van Helsing comes back again, which he had to do frequently for briefing and debriefing, her mind will be a mass of tangles with the new knowledge that will have been crammed into it over the last year.  
  
She still helped Carl whenever she could. The poor man was rather unhappy with her choosing to become 'Van Helsing-like,' in his opinion. Secretly, she knew that Carl had become rather attached to her. The man had little other people who could appreciate and understand his existence other than Helsing and her.  
  
The year had passed by far too quickly in her opinion. She had received word from the cardinal that Helsing would be later this time than expected, giving her time to make last minute preparations.  
  
She had to admit, it was great to be back in comfortable leathers. She hadn't worn such material in...since she was last in her village. The boots were wonderfully crafted. The buckles were silver, and the leather was soft and ebon. Her good friend Tseng Ti even had his wife embroidery the neatest looking silver and white dragons up the full length of them, which was mid-thigh. She buckled on the metal kneepieces over the kneecaps. Carl had made a very befitting piece of makeshift mail, armguards, and thigh (cuisse) and shin (greave) plates for her to place underneath her tunic and leather riding pants. They were very light and comfortable, as he had designed them to be. He had to point out their durability and resistance to most of the elements before he had handed them over to her. The overcoat was made for all-weather, and its supply of pockets and loop holes were endless. She could only imagine what sort of contraptions that each of them were designed for. Lastly, there were her gloves, scarf, and hat, which were nothing elaborate, just simple and durable.  
  
Carl came into her chamber just as she had finished buckling the stirrups to her boots. "And now the weapons."  
  
Praepondero gave him sad puppy eyes for to stare at. "I don't get to choose them?"  
  
Carl grinned at her fruitless attempt to make him feel pity. "If I know you, you'd try to haul off the all the weapons I have in store for Helsing." He emptied out a large sack onto her cot. "I've pretty much the same sort of things for you, my dear, only designed for a woman."  
  
"Carl, you're an angel!"  
  
Carl rummaged through the contraptions on the cot. "I'm a genius too, and a damn good one at that." He started rolling up her sleeves, attaching small spring loaded devices which held beautiful little silver daggers. "This is for emergencies." He tucked an array of small daggers into the sheaths at her belt, including a rapier, which she had little practice with. "Those are for emergencies too. These," he raised what resembled thick throwing stars attached to makeshift handles and small springs, "will be very handy. Tojo blades. Helsing likes them. You just pump the handles and then ...do your job." He began to fill her overcoat with several rolled up small cables, switchblade, picks, bottles of holy water, several grappling devices, small cupped climbing devices, and all sort of other little things that were nicely padded in leather. "And wouldn't you guess? All of this is for emergencies too. Helsing should explain the most of these to you though. Now, the firepower."  
  
"Goody," was all that she could manage in response. She felt like she had more metal on her body than if she had worn a suit of armor. It was a good thing that all that training had put more muscle on that little frame of hers. "Do you know what you're doing, Carl?"  
  
He strapped on a holster with two small modified pistols. "I think so. It's nothing a genius can't do." A third one with small pipes and gas cartridge was placed into one of the pockets of the overcoat. "That one is for werewolves and anything else allergic to silver. The supply of silver bullets along with the regular rounds is around your belt." He tightened the bandolier and stuffed a few throwing stars into the extra slots. He handed over a remodeled looking crossbow, made much in the same way as the gun. It had a bandoleer strap so that she could throw it over her shoulder and wear it comfortably. "All the other supplies have been loaded onto your horse along with your saddlebags and Winchester rifle." Carl stepped back and took in the site of her tiny form, now bulked with gear. "Now you're a modern warrior, more or less. Almost exactly like Helsing, minus around forty-five kilograms."  
  
"Modern or no, I'll sink like a rock in this stuff if I get thrown in water" she mumbled. She had a good intention of going through all of it that Carl had put on her and limiting some of it.  
  
Carl sniffed. "If you're referring to the plating you're wearing, no. I make it incredibly light, and it has a thin layer of cork underneath to help you float better."  
  
She plopped down on her knees to dig underneath her cot. She pulled out a small cedar box and a long handled whip. It was made of the thinnest cords of cable inside of the normal leather. Small silver bands were fitted every few centimeters along its long length. She pulled out a blowgun and several darts from the handle of it.  
  
Carl gave her a suspicious look. "And when, within the gates of St. Peter's, were you able to find the time to make that?"  
  
She smirked. "I never did tell you about how little my race sleeps in comparison, did I?" 


	8. Chapter 8: First Mission

Chapter Eight: First Mission  
  
"Well, you more or less look prepared," commented Van Helsing from his seat on the back of a black mare.  
  
Praepondero looked back down at her attire and sniffed disapprovingly. "Well, once we get to a settlement or even a house, I'm discarding some of this stuff. You'll have to help me on what is the most disposable."  
  
Overhead was a most breath-taking full moon. Thin, wispy clouds seemed to lap back and forth like ocean waves over the yellow orb. The trail that their horses trod upon was ruff and sparse, and the forest trees were hiding the moon.  
  
"Carl has gone overboard?" Helsing shook his head. "Normally, he doesn't go overboard on my preparations. He must really be paranoid for your safety."  
  
She gave her ebon stallion a slight tap with the both of her spurs and the horse trotted a little farther ahead of Helsing's horse. "These vampires that we are to face, why are they not as dead as their fabled creator?"  
  
Helsing was quite for a moment before replying. "Their bodies were not his creations. That is probably why they were not destroyed."  
  
She nodded. "That makes sense. It would only be logical that the Devil desires some of his havoc to remain." Her hands pulled back on the reins abruptly for the horse to halt. The path ahead was widening quickly, for the forest was becoming thinner. "The tracks are spreading more. I would guess that they have made temporary camp not too far ahead. They will not be there long."  
  
Helsing dismounted his horse and surveyed the marks below, impressed with her assessment. "The forest opens out to meadow grounds ahead, not far from some farm houses, probably."  
  
"Wonderful," she muttered sarcastically, speaking in reference to the safety of local mortal inhabitants. "Perhaps we should split up? I can check out the farm houses. You can keep an eye on the caravan, and I'll report back to you."  
  
"With your inexperience? I think not," Helsing's voice was stern, holding no sway to the power of her persuasion. "It is best that you stay close to me until I have seen that you are capable of handling even one of these creatures by yourself."  
  
"Very well, as you wish." She grimaced in response to his tone. She didn't want him to think of her as incompetent though.  
  
Their horses trotted quietly along the dark path for about another kilometer before tying up their horses and preparing for the quiet walk on foot. Behind a thick pile of brush, she discarded the greaves and cuisse underneath. She placed them into one of her saddlebags, along with her coat and hat. Helsing eyed her disapprovingly as she doused her throwing knives and everything else she could with holy water.  
  
"No rifle or crossbow?" He questioned her motives as she also placed them near her horse.  
  
Praepondero smiled brilliantly. "I may not have the experience fighting with any of the creatures that you have, but I think it would more tactical if one of us covered the other..." She grunted and leapt upwards, one of her small hands grabbing a tree branch. "from above." Her arms hoisted the rest of her body almost noiselessly to the branch above.  
  
Helsing slung his rifle over his shoulder, his voice displeased. "I do not want you cornered in a tree either."  
  
She rhythmically let her feet move from one branch to the other, branches Helsing's weight would have broken. "I will follow your lead to the camp or houses." She remembered a time when gallivanting through trees had been a favorite pass time for her and her sisters. Nimbly, her body lunged forward toward the other tree, and she caught the nearest branch. "And whoever said I had to stay in one tree?" she quietly called down.  
  
Teresa, voluptuous in her silk and linen wrappings, was not pleased with the progress that their caravan was making toward the great city of Paris, which was to be their final destination. Myrna, the fortune teller, had forewarned her earlier of the bad weather. Teresa had regarded the feeling as something natural that came to older bones. But weather was not to be a hinder to her kind. Her small clan had long since vacated the streets of Budapest after the destruction of their maker. Since then, they have been a roaming band of vampire gypsies, feeding off the blood of travelers and living off the gold made from entertaining. It was not the most lucrative existence for a vampire, but the freedom of movement was a luxury that only their kind could afford. Her troupe was famished from a week with no feeding, and their bodies needed the nourishment of blood. The caravan was stopping for a few hours for a small hunt through the local farmsteads ahead. As one of the eldest in the troupe, her hunger could wait for Paris. She settled down in a spot near the camp fire, which warmed her preternatural white skin. Her chocolate brown eyes settled upon the field across from her. The few that had went to feed were to return shortly or face her temper.  
  
Gabriel slowly and most cautiously crept to forest edge nearest to the vampire caravan. His nose could make out the scent of burnt wood coming from upwind. The bolts and throwing knives of his were doused in holy water, ready for use. He wasn't certain how much trouble the both of them were in for, so he had shouldered Praepondero's crossbow as well, just in case she needed it.  
  
He wasn't quite sure if he thought her entirely incapable of handling this band of vampires or not. She seemed rather skilled in tracking and... espionage. He added the last quality as he remembered that she lurked somewhere above him. His only hope was that they both made it through this night, or her training would have been for nothing.  
  
He dropped to the soft leaf-covered earth ever so gently, making as less noise as he possibly could. Perhaps only a hundred meters in front of him on the other side of the bushes, were the vampires. There were five of them gathered about the fire, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Two of them were sleek, brown-haired females, and the other three tall, well-built males. The lot of them was dressed in showy silk and cotton trappings. A human man and woman snored gently from their place on the steps of a wagon, not far from the fire. They were perhaps their mortal drivers for the daylight. Three more vampire males emerged from the other side forest, near the trail. Their faces and skin were more flushed then their companions. He and Praepondero had not been quick enough to save the farmers. His lips mouthed a silent prayer for the innocent souls.  
  
Overhead, farther to the right of Helsing and the caravan, Praepondero remained utterly silent and motionless from her perch. Her dark eyes took in the scene in front of her, not missing much detail. Two of the males were armed with small daggers tucked in their boots and belts. The female with the brown eyes kept a switch-blade tucked in one of her cuffs. The others were probably content with the bulk of their supernatural strength. She waited for Helsing to make the first move.  
  
It did not come. She felt the wind shift on her skin, carrying her and Helsing's scent to the predatory noses of the vampires. Heavenly, she thought, just heavenly. Some of the vampires were already making their way to her spot. Their bodies were supernatural shadows that seemed to glide over the earth. She quickly leapt over to the next few trees and hid herself deeper into a thick pine canopy.  
  
Helsing quickly took note of his comrade's situation and sent several bolts into the general direction of the wagons; one pierced a female in the back. Her shrill screams hurt his ears as she dissolved into ashes. The brown- eyed female was much quicker than the others. Her switch-blade had long since been in her hand. It was held expertly and threateningly at the throat of one of the humans... 


	9. Chapter 9: Damn Holy Water

Chapter Nine: Damn Holy Water  
  
Teresa smiled. If the slayer wanted to play with her, he had to play more fairly. She did not like evidence of the effectiveness that his bolt had left behind. The old human in her arms trembled as her switch-blade drew a drop of blood underneath his chin. "Come out and fight us more fairly, human."  
  
Gabriel grimaced at the sight of the advantage the female vampire held over him. He did not want to lose any more lives tonight her clan, and she knew it. She was experienced. He raised his arms slowly and entered into the clearing.  
  
Three of the male vampires had made it effortlessly to the base of her tree. Wicked smiles were spread across their faces. She was outnumbered.  
  
"Come out, darling. We won't hurt you...much," a scruffy blonde creature called. His long fangs flashed with his smile.  
  
"Odd," said another. "I can't hear her breath. But she smells wonderful though. Eh, Phoebus?"  
  
A clean shaven vampire's smile widened at the comment. "It's driving me wild." Praepondero grabbed a handful of the stars from her bandoleer, eyeing the damned creatures below. They were foolish to play with her as if she were normal prey. Her pupils narrowed to make out the white gleams of their throats. The stars glistened like beam-shots of moonlight as they were flung from her fingertips. Chortled cries met her ears after the sound two small wet thuds. She had missed one.  
  
The man was foolish to come near. Teresa snarled. "Drop the crossbow, mortal." She inclined her head to three remaining vampires by her side. Two of them had their daggers brandished in their hands, closing in on him. "Fight fair or the man dies." The human woman behind the vampiress was wide and awake, fear evident on her face. She remained frozen in her spot, not wanting to draw any attention to herself.  
  
Gabriel gave the vampires a quick nod and dropped his favored weapon of the moment. "Knives only, gentlemen?"  
  
The two advanced upon him almost at once. Helsing grimaced as one of the daggers that were thrown graced his leg, and then he ducked to let the other lodge itself in a tree behind him. They were quick, but he had been expecting that. While he had dodged, he had withdrawn and thrown one of his own daggers, catching one of the creatures in the chest. It screamed and crumpled into ash.  
  
The other vampire with knives gave him an assessing look as he stuck. "Damn Holy water?"  
  
Helsing moved with the attack and twisted out of the way, lucky that the blade had only taken some of his hair. He pulled out one of his tojo blades and managed to get a painful yelp from the vampire. The wound quickly healed underneath the blur of clothing that was the vampire. A very solid fist too fast for the human eye caught him square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. The vampire was upon him in seconds.  
  
Praepondero was frightened as she saw too glowing white hands dissolve out of the dark and push her from her position. She fell to the forest ground, moaning painfully as she hit it hard. She whirled out from underneath the advance of two large feet from above. It was the black-haired clean-shaven vampire, Phoebus.  
  
Her body moved in and out gracefully as she danced away from each of his blows. The vampire hissed with annoyance with each strike that missed her. Her size gave her an advantage in speed, but it was an advantage that normal humans would not have over the supernatural.  
  
Praepondero knew that she couldn't avoid his attacks forever, so she took her chance. One of her hands moved quickly into a small pouch at her belt as she ducked an overhead blow. She snapped back up and whipped her body into the very position of the dragon that Tseng Ti had named her after. She struck out with a ferocity that caught the creature off guard. Her speed was enough to make him take the defensive and back up. He was just as quick though, blocking her. Where she struck, she met solid flesh. He struck back, knowing that his prey was weaker. She cried out in pain as his fist met her in the ribs; the momentum threw her into the truck of a tree. Breath was knocked from her, and the vampire moved in for the kill.  
  
Gabriel was fairing much than his partner. He had been quick enough to unload a few bullets into the face of his attacker, which in turn also gave him the opportunity to stake the creature in the chest while it was distracted. The bulkier vampire that was guarding the female was all that remained between him and beautiful killer. "Is she really worth it?" grunted Helsing as dodged a massive fist. The vampire hissed, spittle dripping off a fang. "Die, mortal!" A hard kick was delivered to Helsing's gut. The hunter dropped to the ground in pain.  
  
"You were entertaining while you lasted, beautiful," the black-haired vampire spat. His long porcelain-white fingers encased themselves like iron around her slender throat. The world began to spin as oxygen was cut off from her, but she only smiled up at the loathed being. "Don't get cocky."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hell awaits you," she choked out. The back of her head throbbed, and she thought she felt the trickle of warm blood flowing down the back of her neck.  
  
The vampire blinked in confusion as her statement and then looked down at the smoldering hole that was spreading outward on his chest. His hand shot out to touch the wound. It only spread quicker. Praepondero watched while gasping for air as the creature blew away as ash on the breeze.  
  
She had no time to lose, for Helsing's sake. She shook her head clear of its haze. Her hand snatched up the empty dart that had slipped from her fingers, and it was replaced with a stack of small throwing stars as she raced into the clearing.  
  
Gabriel's body twitched in pain as lightening blow after blow was dealt to his body. He had managed to smack the vampire several times, but mortal fists couldn't do much. A large foot came up to meet him in the face. It stopped several inches from his face. The vampire had paused to watch in terror as several lethally blessed throwing stars burry themselves into the female's hand and throat. The switch-blade dropped harmlessly into the grass, and the human scurried away as the lovely creature withered into dust. Gabriel didn't waste a second as he jabbed a dagger that had been concealed up his sleeve under the chin of the last vampire. He nodded thanks to a battered Praepondero that entered into the circle of the camp. She managed a smile and winced as she rubbed the back of her head. She brought her hand to her face and noticed the wet white blood that oozed down her palm. "What a lovely shade of..." Gabriel cried out as she fell to the ground, hoping that she was just unconscious... 


	10. Chapter 10: A Time for Everything

Chapter 10: A Time for Everything

The way is dark, and the road is lonely

Moon beams from heaven offer a light of hope

Remember the footprints left in the road by God

Follow them well, my child

There is no story greater than life to tell

A soft melodious voice was recalled deep within the confines of Praepondero's memories. The voice was very hazy and so very hard to completely recollect. Mother? The lisps on the end of each word clarified her mother's distinguished accent. Longing filled her being, a longing for the comfort of her mother's gentle warm arms. The clear bell-like laughter of her sister resonated next to the memory of her mother. Family. Something she had not seen in centuries, perhaps millennia. Life. It was a life lost.

"Praepondero?" a deep, but not bassado, voice interrupted the warmth of her memories. Who is that? What is praepondero? A sharp pain plucked her mind back into consciousness. The world slowly came to her through blurred vision of dark shapes. She shook her head to clear it, and only yelped in pain. A strong hand squeezed her shoulder. Her eyes focused, and she beheld a tall man with dark shoulder-length hair and brown eyes who was leaning over her. Who? A surge of recent happenings flashed through her mind. She was called Praepondero. She mumbled weakly, "Van Helsing."

"I'm relieved you can remember things." The hunter relaxed back in his chair and crossed his arms. "With the nasty bump you got, the good doctor was for certain that you'd have amnesia."

"Too bad it wasn't selective amnesia." She sputtered out a dry cough and sat up. Helsing placed a cool glass of water in her hand. "Thank you." She gulped it down quickly and lay her aching head back down. "What has gone on since my...uh...absence?"

Helsing cocked an eyebrow. "You were out for almost two weeks."

She felt her mind lurch at the information. "Two weeks? Well then, what are we doing here then?" She shot up quickly out of bed and then just as quickly regretted as the world spun around. Helsing shot up out of his chair after her and helped steady her.

"You, my apprentice, are not going anywhere until the doctor comes back and approves."

She patted her head and found her handkerchief removed and replaced with bandages. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back. Oh no. "So this doctor..."

"Has seen that you aren't human."

"Can we..."

"Trust him? Of course. I wouldn't have brought you to him if I hadn't known him." Helsing's eyes narrowed disapprovingly. "By the way, nice blood. I'm sure that won't draw any unwanted attention."

She grinned as best she could. "I think I've done pretty well for the past few years to keep it from surfacing."

He grunted unhappily. "If you bleed in public view, you're in big trouble."

"I've dealt with this sort of thing for a long while. I've practice." She shrugged off the hand of his that was on her shoulder and steadied herself. "You've no idea how much practice."

"Maybe it's time you tell me how much practice you've had? Now that there is a little time for to do so?" He gave her a hard poke on a shoulder and she fell backwards back onto the bed.

"Hey!" She sat up and glared at him. "There's too much to tell. It would take more than a little time. Besides, reveling in the past is something that I've done too much of."

Helsing's features softened. "I do not know the pain of many memories, but I do know that it is not quite fair that you know more about me than I do of you. Carl told me some, but clearly not enough."

She sighed deeply. "My people were guardians, keepers of all other creations He had made after and before us. To balance the strength of the dark forces that had entered the world before our creation, God gave to us the ability to manipulate nature. Our race became imperfect as some of the dark creatures bred with our race. Impurity is only reconciled through God. We have long been divided, my breed that is. I come from a tribe of one of last purer breeds. The arrival of the Messiah was not just salvation for your world, but mine also." A hot tear rolled down a porcelain white cheek. "I witnessed it, Van Helsing. The crucification. No being could ever have suffered more than he." She wiped away the tear with her chemise sleeve. "I also witnessed His ascension, even if only from a distance."

Amazement and a touch of purpose-filled shock filled Helsing's eyes. "And I thought what little I could remember was unbelievable. He was positively real? Truly real?"

She gave him a challenging look. "I have seen and believe. But those have not seen and yet believe are more blessed, are they not?"

He nodded. His expression was one of deep thought. It was not easy to soak in and accept the words that she had just spoken. The battle of Masada rose into the forefront of his mind. It was not long after the death of Christ when that was supposed to have happened and not a world away from the Holy City either...

Praepondero seemed to understand where his thoughts were going and shook her head. "Some things are better left unsaid, at least for the moment."

Helsing's head jerked up at her remark. "What things?"

She kept a cool composure. "A lot of different things."

"You asked for me to let you work with me. We will not work well together if we keep secrets from one another."

The abyss black of her eyes deepened as she smiled at him. "There is a time and purpose for everything under heaven. And I would never keep anything from you if I knew it would hurt our relationship."

Van Helsing smiled. "You've no secrets?"

Praepondero laughed. "Every woman has her secrets, and she is entitled to keep them as she chooses. And you too have the same choice. You can tell or keep your secrets as you please. I still think that you are a good person regardless of what dark memories you might hold."

Helsing smiled. "Point made. Thank you."

"Here's something new to know, if it makes you any happier. My true name is Lylaith. You may call me that if you want."

"So what number do I tally that secret revealed as thus far?"

She laughed. "I don't know. You tell me."


	11. Chapter 11: One Night Can Change Everyth...

Sorry for making all of you wait so long for me to post this next chapter. Life has been incredibly busy for me. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

-Arilith

Sorry again. The spellcheck seems to have done some real weird stuff to my documents. I've rechecked it. So please excuse anymore odd words you find.

-Arilith

Chapter Eleven: One Night Can Change Everything

Near the vacant wagons that were once called home to the traveling troupe of Undead, four glittering blue eyes glowed in the shifts of moonlight that poured down through the forest canopy above. One pair was darkened with rage; the other held a deep look of knowing.

"We cannot travel that way anymore." An elderly woman dressed in colorful tattered shawls and skirts emerged from the edge of the forest and made her way to the circle of wagons. A smaller form glided behind her as if her shadow.

"We have no home, grandmother."

The old woman paused and gazed upon the ashes of what had been her caretakers. She looked back upon the white porcelain round face of her granddaughter. An old withered hand reached out and wiped away a tear of rage that was upon the child's cheek. She regretted having turned the child into a creature like herself. She hadn't been strong enough to bear the girl dying of typhoid while a woman as old as she was to live forever. Now, the girl would forever be young, and forever would her body be that of a child. Teenage youth now glowed from the eyes of a ten-year old, something very dangerous indeed.

"Home is in the east, my child. There was safety in numbers. That is why we left." She paused. "Our Master is alive, my dear. I feel it in my bones. His last bride was my Maker, and he was her Maker. We must return to Budapest. Our Master had died once, and Van Helsing has not." She turned her gaze upon the clouded sky above. "He does not know this yet."

This year's Festival of the Fools would be her first. Her first one to be at publicly, that is. Van Helsing and she were sniffing out the different noble houses that were supposedly housing several vampire lords that had been terrorizing Venice for awhile. The festival was perhaps the best excuse she had for not to conceal herself so much. Everyone wore fantastic masks and costumes. She fit in just nicely with her old-fashioned Arabic clothing and black feathered mask. Her hair was wrapped up neatly under black gauze, a few strands dangling neatly here and there. Her gauzy outfit billowed darkly against her white diaphanous skin. Helsing disproved of her ears, but just as long as they were hidden beneath the mask's feathers, she would be fine.

Gabriel and she glided across the ballroom floor of the Ghirlandajo Manor, outside of Venice, in the countryside. Neither really paid close attention to each other's faces as they danced. They were busy looking for the palest looking guests, other than her, of course.

"We've been to a total of six parties so far, you know. Don't you think it's about time..." Praepondero whispered to him and she felt a distinct tap on her left shoulder as the waltz ended. She was tired of having all the men dance her dizzy, but it was the best way to keep a lookout.

Helsing let go of her quickly. His face was calm as he handed her over to the man that had bowed politely and asked for her. Her pupils, however, went small as they took in the man. He was incredibly tall with the palest blonde hair that she had ever seen on a human. It was his skin and grace that gave him away though. It was prenatural in how it seemed to almost glow in the soft candlelight.

His voice was smooth. "May I have the next dance, my lady?"

She nodded and took his hand. She felt engulfed by his sheer size as they seem to float across the dance floor. Helsing was not too far, watching the both of them.

"You keep looking back at him," the vampire noted. "Does he mean anything to you?"

She felt herself blush regardless of the fact that there was indeed only friendship between her and Gabriel. "He is like a brother to me, sir. I am merely not use to being in a stranger's presence."

The creature smiled. "I see." He tightened his grip around her waist as he dipped her fashionably and then pulled her back up. "Might I comment upon how unique your appearance is comparison to other women's tonight?"

She pulled her eyes away from his gaze. "I do?"

"You shine like a rare opal, my lady."

"You flatter me with your sweet talk, sir." She hid her face behind a lace fan as the song ended. A long white silken strand of hair fell out from underneath the head-wrap and flopped in front of her eyes. The vampire quickly brushed the hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

She swallowed lightly. His face showed no surprise at all when he had swept the hair behind one of her ears, underneath all the feathers.

The vampire straightened his dark sixteenth century jacket collar and smiled, holding out his hand. "Would it be too much of me to ask for you to join me for a stroll?"

_Uh-oh_. Gabriel had better be watching them extra close now. She peered over his should to find Van Helsing busy with a pair of flocking women, very pale ones at that too. Behind a very sweet smile and nod, Praepondero was very worried. This all seemed more and more like a plot to her. Those wenches had to also be Undead.

The vampire led her out to the vast balcony on the west side of the manor. Other couples were out there, quietly chatting amongst themselves. However, most of the couples quickly filtered back inside for the next dance. He took her hand and began to lead her in the very same waltz out on the balcony.

"I do hope you hope you remain gentleman-like, sir," she gave him a quick glare.

His quiet laughter rang like a soft bell. He bent down and brought his lips next to her ear and whispered, "Why are you so convinced we are any different from mortals?"

She stiffened. "We? Mortals? Have you had too much wine tonight?" She pulled away, looking at the dancing crowd inside. She had to make her move, and quickly, before he could make his. She innocently reached up to pat the back of her hair, making it look as lady-like as possible. The hairpin was in there somewhere...

Something cold and hard as iron clamped down upon her wrist. He had pulled her back to him and was twirling her in the rhythm of the dance toward the other end of the balcony, the vacant end. "No surprises, my dear," he whispered as they came to a halt.

"Unhand me now!" She squirmed angrily in his grip. But before she could make enough noise to get someone's attention, he leapt off the balcony with her in hold.

He landed gently upon the earth below and released one of her wrists to place a large hand over her mouth. He bent near. "At first I thought you were one of us. Skin so pale, hair so light. But as the night progressed," he breathed in her scent as if confirming her mortality. "Your heartbeat became easier to distinguish amongst the others. It was so calm, even with all the dancing." He smiled. "Though now it beats like that of a hummingbird."

He led her farther away from the main building and into the maze gardens to the north lawn of the manor. It was fresh and very western in appearance, out-of-place in her opinion. She thought herself stupid to think such a thing while in danger.

"You hunt my kind." He swung her around and pointed to one of the neatly cut squares cut in a row of hedges. "Why don't you see how different you and I really are?"

She gave him a puzzled stare. "I still don't..." She was cut off short as he shoved her into its direction. Her ears picked up two soft voices ahead.

_"Why not, Nicholas? I am dying. There is nothing wrong in saving a life."_ It was a woman's voice.

Praepondero peered in on the scene, finding that her guess was correct. A small brazier nearby gave light to the scene. It was a brown-haired, elegant and lean man with a young woman, perhaps no older than seventeen. She was dressed in rich volumous folds of purple silk, and her delicate face was hidden beneath a gold beaded mask.

"This is not life, my love. I always must remain in the shadows. I feed of the life force of your people. Do you not realize that I am a monster?" His hand was stroking the dark curls surrounding the girl's face.

_The girl's face was wet with tears. She looked ashen. "But we feel the same, don't we? We both still bleed, don't we? The doctor says I haven't but a few weeks to live. If you take me now, they will only assume I have run away to die alone."_

"_To rob you of mortality would rob me of the few refuges of humanity that remain in me. I would be giving you a curse. You would never be able to live again."_

_"But I would be with you. What more could I need?"_

Praepondero pulled away from the scene, understanding exactly what the couple had been discussing. She had quietly pulled a small dagger that was sheathed in the end of her fan while listening to the conversation. It was her last hope of escape. She had to push aside the sentiments that the vampire had tried to impose upon her.

She whirled around to face the light-haired vampire, dagger raised. But she had been too obvious. He swatted it away as if it were an annoying fly and pounced upon her. She managed to drop and roll away, out of his reach, but only to find herself in the clutches of another vampire. It was the elegant man that had been with the woman on the other side of the hedges. He had her completely pinned with her own weapon at her throat.

The blonde vampire chuckled approvingly at her speed. "I knew you weren't normal."

A long-fingered hand tore away her mask. "You should prey on something easier, Lafel." It was the brown-haired creature.

Lafel stroked the side of her face and traced a finger around one of her ears. "Master would love to see this creature."

Praepondero was thoroughly outraged by his behavior after trying to convince her of another story. She jabbed an elbow back into the ribs of the vampire holding her, and she did it with all her strength. Relief filled her as she felt him left go and fall backwards. Her arm throbbed with pain at hitting something that could be compared to a bronze stature. She rolled forward on the ground, the other vampire leaping out of her way, and matched the vampires in speed as she twisted her wrist in just the right angle to throw a hairpin behind her, catching the brown-haired vampire in the arm.

"Pope's blessings," she grunted as the creature crumbled into ash.

Lafel roared in outrage and captured her with just one arm, encircling her shoulders and arms. Before she could struggle, she felt the cool of his lips against her neck...and then pain. He was drawing life from her, she could feel each drop that was leaving her. Her body was going numb, and she felt herself go limp in his arms.

He pulled away, leaving enough life fluid for her heart to continue beating and living. He licked the blood that continued trickling down her collarbone. "So different..."

She felt the air glide over the bare of her skin as she fell from his arms. She saw the glisten of his eyes as she fell to the grass. They were cobalt blue. Her arm throbbed even more as she fell upon it. Then, all she could see was the white of the paving stones nearby. She heard his voice, which faded as he fled from the scene of his crime. "Now let us see how you hunt..."


	12. Chapter 12: Irony

I am sorry it has taken me forever and ever to start typing on this story again. Omatase itashimasita. Forgive me for making you readers wait for so long.-Selqueyth

Chapter 12: Irony

It seemed as if dawn would never come as each minute passed by from her spot upon the cold earth. But when it did come, for the first time in her life, it was painful. As each bright warm golden ray touched her deathly pale skin, it stung. The flesh did not cinder or become ashen. It merely stung. The flow of what little life fluid that remained in her system was slow, but at least it still flowed.

In her mind's eye, haunting images floated and flitted about. Unparalled despair and grief racked through her being. The visions and feelings were not her own though. Sweet cherub faces with dark brown eyes. An elderly woman sitting near comfortably warm fire sewing. Childhood tunes being sung sweetly. Then she beheld countless faces of victims, their last moments. Some of the faces were hardened with the hardships of being farmhands and maids. Some were tender with vigorous youth and inexperience. The vampire… He had left his mark not only literally upon her, but now spiritually. She cursed him under her breath.

She rolled over and moaned. Her body was lethargic and ached with every movement. Her garments were grimy and torn and did little to protect her against the coolness of the morning. Long strands of silken white hair fell from their ties and flopped into her vision as she turned her face toward the golden sky. Her pupils shrank as she beheld a rugged and messy Van Helsing looking down at her. He looked concerned and shocked at the same time.

"Lylaith!" He knelt beside her and gently checked her body for injuries. His eyes widened as hebeheld the puncture wounds upon her neck. "You are not…"

"Undead…yet?" she whispered. "By nightfall, I might be." Her laughter was like the soft tinkling of bells, too alive for him to believe her beyond help.

"How did this happen?"

She smiled, faintly, as he lifted her off the ground. Her eyes fluttered weakly. "You tell me. I managed quite… well for awhile there."

"Just sleep for now."

She shivered in the warm dawn of day. "You know what must be done with me before nightfall."

"I know." He absorded the warmth of daylight differently than her, his body melting in its promising light. "It is not night yet."

That night did not bode comfortably for Lafel. Her sweet liquor still coursed warmly through his veins. The memory of her life's esscense flowing into him had intoxicated him. He was truly puzzled though. She was not his yet. The curse of being one of the damned should have enveloped her body by now. Her will and mind should be under his control. He could not sense nor feel her.

Behind him he made out the soft footsteps of Bianca, one of his own childer. "My lord, the Master says you are to ride to Budapest this very night."

He turned to meet her, his eyes wide with surprise. "He knows about all of this so soon?"

Her green eyes were dull, almost lifeless. She had little compassion left for to continue her own existence, but could do nothing to end it under his power. "Word travels quickly, my lord. The carriages and boats for the passage were booked during the day while you slept."

Shadows danced darkly in the street below. "Very well, I will report to the Master immediately."


	13. Chapter 13: Memories

Night came and went, to Lylaith's relief. But still, her dreams were haunted by reliving the moment of the vampire's kiss upon her skin. It was a sin that she felt shaded her soul and body to the marrow of her bones. Every time she looked into Gabriel's eyes, they were riddled with worry. He was waiting for her to turn into a monster that he would have to slay. But for now, heaven was on their side.

She rose with the sun and put on all her clothing and gear. She still felt like she dancing in a strange world, as if sunlight was not her element of life. But she had to ignore it. She was determined to fight this battle, both externally and internally.

Her boots clicked on the polished hardwood floor of the inn as she made her way to a stool next to Hellsing. "Good morning."

Gabriel lifted his head from a bowl of gruel and choked on a bit of it as he saw who it was. "Quick recovery, my friend."

She nodded at the innkeeper as he waved a bowl of breakfast at her. She sat next to him. "Sunlight works wonders. That it can surely do."

He nodded and talked into his bowl. "Look, we have to get something straight here. If you start feeling sick or anything odd from here on out, you must let me know. Do you understand?"

Her voice became cold and quiet. "I understand all too well." Breakfast continued in silence.

Venice was still not free of all the fiends that lurked in her dark shadows at night to feed off of warm blood, but they would have to settle with that it was a little emptier than before, for now at least. They had to find the individual who had partaken of her own life fluid. It was his death and his death alone that would free her from any thrall that he had over her, and it would be his death that would assure he would never return to claim her.

Lylaith did her best to assure Gabriel that she was ready to face a case such as this one. She proclaimed it a test of her faith, and it was with that Gabriel began to ask less frequently how she felt.

Weeks past, and the trail that the vampire had left was becoming cold. Weather was washing away tracks and wearing down their beasts of burden. But they continued. And Van Hellsing was becoming more and quieter as they neared Budapest. Lylaith was concerned at to what was on his mind.

"Are you well?" She nudged her mount to quicken its pace and match Hellsing's stead.

He looked up from underneath the brim of his hat. "Tired, but nothing more than that."

"I am not so certain you speak the truth, my friend. You dodge answering the true intent of my question."

He pulled the brim of his hat lower and pretended to sleep. A few minutes later he mumbled, "I was here once before, some time ago."

She nodded. "Memories are not always a happy thing, I understand. But sooner or later, we must part with them and live in the present."

His gloved hand scratched the stubble on his chin. "I suppose that is true sometimes…" With that comment, he wiped out his pistol and took aim at the dark shadow in the night sky that was rapidly descending…


End file.
